Enough
by TheOceanBreathesSalty
Summary: R&R ONESHOT! Slash, so don't read if you don't like. NO FLAMES!


**AN:** First story! Let me know what you think. I left the characters up to you, I envisioned them as Harry, Draco and Hermione but it can be your own interpretation if you think someone else.

I own nothing, except the idea.

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A boy. There is light blonde hair falling to his shoulders and covering one eye. The visible eye is glimmering dark silver, almost black, unusually dark against his pale skin. His face is thin, his body slender and lanky. He is slightly gawky with his six-foot frame, but he has a runner's body and a quiet strength. Both arms are crossed tightly over his slim chest. One leg is crossed over the other and propped against the wall that he leans against with deceptive casualness. Closer up his stance is rigid, frustration and rage written all over his frame. The almost black eye is glimmering with impatience and fury. He stares directly across the room at the person leaning on the opposite wall.

A boy. One of his hands is running through his messy dark black hair repeatedly in an attempt to let go of his frustration. He is well tanned and slender, but muscles are corded like wires throughout his body. They're a result of long afternoons spent gardening during summer and playing sports while at school. He has bright emerald green eyes that represent any emotions that are felt, and today they are worried and indecisive. He doesn't know what to do or what choice to make. He is in love. He is in love with a beautiful boy who is leaning against the opposite wall with anger covering the pain in his eyes.

This is not acceptable. Green-eyes knows, just _knows_, that this will not end well. Either their families will be furious, their friends won't accept them, or the majority of the world will reject them. But he can't help it. He has fallen in love with a gorgeous boy and the gorgeous boy has fallen back. But he is not sure that it is enough.

The light blonde is hurt. He loves this boy and his striking green eyes. He loves him in that cliché way, where it almost _hurts_ to think about him and he always wants to be around him. He sometimes thinks that they were meant to be together, because he can't imagine loving anyone else as much as he loves him. But the other boy cannot accept it. The other boy is scared, so very terrified, of what the world might think.

They have been seen together once before, by an interesting girl. She likes to observe others and attempt to understand the chaos that is humanity. She notices what the others don't. When the boys slip away at a party, needing that time away from their unobservant and uncaring friends, she follows. It is an invasion of privacy, but she can't help herself. In all her seventeen years of observing people, she has yet to witness true love and passion. And she wants, almost needs, to view it at least once.

She has seen love. Her mother and father have been in love with each other for longer than her lifetime. And her oldest cousin and her new husband are in typical newlywed lovey-dovey bliss. But their love was formed from easy dates and approving parents. There is romance sure, but there is not passion. The girl has seen every emotion possible on many different faces over the years, but she has yet to see _passion_. The type of passion that is formed by wanting something or someone so badly, and it being within arms length, and not being able to have it. The passion that comes from secrets and whispered promises, late nights and hiding.

She thinks that these boys have that passion. She has watched these boys before, and they are two of her favorite to observe. They do not fall into the category that most teenagers do. Other teens, their emotions are always up front and easy to see. She likes the mystery these two boys present. They are often closed off, but so good at faking it, excellent really, that no one else notices. They are popular within the school, and have been known to date a few of the pretty girls. They are experts at deflecting unwanted attention. In the three years that they started dating, started lying, and fell in love, only the girl has noticed.

She has suspicions but nothing is proven until that night. They had fought earlier; it was easy for the girl to tell. She thinks that it was the green-eyed boy who was mistaken this time, because as soon as they are away from prying eyes he is whispering sorry and of course he loves him, and how could he not? The girl watches the play of emotions across their faces, fascinated. She has never seen them this uninhibited before. There was always a wall, some type of blankness closing off emotions from their face. But it is gone now. They are beautiful; there is no other word for it. The blonde has a mixture of pain and sorrow on his handsome face, the raw power of his emotions making him almost unbearable to look at. But the other boy is different. His eyes are nearly glowing with indecision, even while his face softens and his lips whisper warm apologies. The blonde finally speaks, his voice slightly raspy and hoarse from the unshed tears that filled his eyes off and on throughout the night. His words are simple, and the girl is almost disappointed. All he says is stop, just stop. She is beginning to think that she was mistaken; it was just another couple of boys in over their heads and confusing love with lust. But then the green-eyed boy reacts to his words.

He freezes in the middle of another sorry, and cocks his head to the side. He looks like a hawk sizing up his prey, but the emotion in his eyes has changed. It is now that true passion she was looking for. The girl has a strange moment of relief that she will not ever have to tell anyone of this encounter because she has no idea how she would explain that look. It was love and lust and pain and sorrow and even a little bit of rage all wrapped into one. And the only thing she could think when she noticed the blonde had the same look in his eyes was, _this is it_. She feels like she is intruding, but she cannot tear her eyes away even though she knows she should.

The boy's green-eyes seem to sparkle as he moves closer to the other boy. His hands reach up and pull his face up so that he can brush the light blonde hair out of his eyes. Their eyes meet and the girl nearly gasps from the sheer emotion they are showing. The light blonde takes a step closer and his lips barely brush against the green-eyed boy's. Then he pulls away, and walks inside without a glance backwards.

That was five parties ago. The girl got to see true passion and was satisfied with the ending to that particular mystery. But she stopped coming to the parties after that, because she didn't want to see their end. The thing with true passion is that is always dies somehow. Whether the people in the relationship die, or the romance ends, it always ends somehow. And normally it is messy, hurtful to all the people involved and all the people who know those involved. That is the drawback of passionate love. And the boys were so heartbreakingly beautiful that she didn't think she could stand to see the end of them.

At the current party there is unease and unrest slowly consuming the house, and the two boys are standing on opposite sides of the living room, leaning against the walls behind them and locked in a silent conversation. Even the others there, with all their innocence and youthfulness, realize that something is happening. Finally, the green-eyed boy shakes his head slightly, defeat and surrender in his eyes. His face crumples with sorrow, but he has made his decision. He doesn't think that he can take on the whole world; at least he doesn't think he can do it and win. The light blonde hangs his head for a moment, one tear dropping to the ground, before he stands tall, nods once and walks out the front door. He doesn't glance back.

The light blonde goes to his room, writes a note, and grabs his friend's favorite knife. He slides it into the back of his jeans and walks to the edge of school. No one hears it, the slide of cool metal against pale flesh unseen and unnoticed. No one hears the too early end of the boy who was rejected by the other half of his soul. The next day when a professor from the school, having an early morning walk, stops by the body and calls the headmaster, the students are shocked. The news flock to the sight and descend like vultures, vicious rumors cycling. But only two know the truth now.

The green-eyed boy doesn't understand. He made his decision and it was supposed to solve things, it was supposed to make everything better and easier to understand. It wasn't supposed to kill half his heart and half his soul. He wants so badly to take it back. But he can't. He left the country soon after and he lived the rest of his life in a small trailer in the middle of Nevada, spending his days with tears dripping down his gaunt face and memories slowly consuming him. He dies at twenty-three, just five years after he rejected the other half of his soul. He wasted away without a reason to live.

The girl leaves town shortly after all this occurs. There is sorrow and pain that seeps throughout the whole town, and she doesn't want to live that way. She goes to America, and she moves into a little apartment by the beach in California and meets a pleasant man. They fall in love and she is happy with that. She no longer wants true passion. It scares her now, the thought of giving so much of herself to one person. She has seen what that can do to people. Later on, when she is thirty-four and both of the boys have long been dead and gone, she has two children, twins. One boy and one girl, the girl quiet and observant, much like her mother but with a little of her father's joy and rambunctious personality. And the boy, he is loud and curious. He has deep green-eyes that shine with whatever emotion he is feeling at the time.

Years later, when the boy has reached sixteen, a family moves in across the street. There is a mother and a father and two sisters, one eighteen the other seventeen, and one son. The entire family is dark-haired with light blue or green eyes, except for the boy. He has light blonde hair and deep grey eyes, so dark they look black. He is sixteen years old. The girl watches from the window as the boys meet for the first time, their eyes locking. Curiosity and slight recognition light their eyes as their hands stay grasped for entirely too long. Tears slide down the girl's cheeks as she watches the two boys. Her mind flashing back to that night at the party before the sudden urge to move far, far away and take her son with her becomes almost overwhelming. But she doesn't. At first she doesn't know why, but when her boy comes home a few months later and introduces the light blonde, both their eyes shining with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness, she understands. Her son's shaking voice introduces the other boy as his. No titles like boyfriend or partner, just simply _his_. And then she realizes why she didn't pack up and run. She didn't have the heart to watch another soul, the same soul if her suspicions were correct, be torn in half. So she shakes the new light blonde boy's hand and smiles at him. Then she looks at her son, who has never seemed happier, and says one thing.

"I hope it's enough this time."


End file.
